


A Place of Loneliness and of Eating

by doctornemesis



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anger, Angry Sex, Come Swallowing, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 11:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctornemesis/pseuds/doctornemesis
Summary: Sanji has a lot of feelings after their first dealing with Bartholomew Kuma, and Zoro's determined to sort things out.---“You finally done dying all over the place?” he shot back, cigarette pinched in between his fingers as he crushed the butt against the bottom of one of his dress shoes.“I wasn’t the only one willing to die back there.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) I've been binge reading the manga recently, and I love the dynamic of these two so I thought I'd leave an offering. 
> 
> 2.) This takes place during the Thriller Bark arc, specifically between chapters 484 and 486.
> 
> 3.) I do not own One Piece, nor any of the characters.
> 
> 4.) Any and all mistakes are mine, and any comments/criticisms/flailing's are more than welcomed.

Sanji sat upon a lone, wooden chair in a desolate kitchen with nothing but the full moon hanging in the night sky to serve as the only source of light. The spine of his chair crooked, uncomfortable just to look at, but his face portrayed nothing but pensive boredom and rigid agitation. The cigarette that hung loosely from his lips looked as though it could fall out of his mouth at any moment, his suit jacket folded against the back. 

 

What was wrong with the idiot?

 

“What’s wrong with you, idiot?”

 

A bottle of rum in one hand, and the other on his bare hip, swords sealed away from him per Doctors orders. Zoro planned on stealing them back later tonight, when the moon slipped behind the thick clouds Nami had predicted earlier that afternoon. Out of instinct, and maybe comfort, he reached for them again, gripping nothing but open air and grim dismay.   

 

“You finally done dying all over the place?” he shot back, cigarette pinched in between his fingers as he crushed the butt against the bottom of one of his dress shoes.

 

“I wasn’t the only one willing to die back there.”

 

The sneer that painted Sanji’s face nearly made Zoro second guess himself. The tension thick, hard to breathe through, and it only continued to build the longer he stood there. If a move were to be made, Zoro determined he would not be the one to make it...it would be much more interesting to see what Sanji had in store for him, the way his knee bounced and his jaw twitched under pressure. 

 

“You knocked me unconscious,  _ you bastard! _ ” Sanji yelled, up and out of that worthless chair in less than a blink of an eye, knee blocked from Zoro’s solar plexus by the palm of his hand alone.

 

“ _ You _ interfered with my fight,” Zoro said, thinking back to that moment, when his back was turned, exposed to the crushing force that was Kuma’s power. “You were willing to give your life, just like I was willing to give mine.  _ Idiot _ .” 

 

Sanji hadn’t thought twice, and neither had he. The anger seethed forth from him in waves, an anger Zoro pretended not to understand. The anger of survival, the resentment, and the afflictive torture that blossoms when you wish to lay down your life so that you may not witness another offering theirs in your stead.

 

Sanji’s fingers wrapped themselves around his forearm just like they had before, grip unrelenting, crushing. Zoro’s wounds made themselves known as he winced in discomfort, still waiting to see in which direction the current of Sanji’s anger would guide them. The longer they stood there, each in the others space, the more unnerved Zoro began to feel. 

 

Sanji’s thoughts were indecipherable to him, another language entirely with that man. 

 

“Well,” he said, taking a swig from his bottle with his free hand. “Are you going to do something, or not?  _ Sanji. _ ”

 

Sanji’s eyes widened, if but for only a brief moment, eyebrow cocked as Zoro fought the urge to grin in smug satisfaction. All of this time, and never had he called the chef by his given name. It felt powerful and weighted against his tongue, he quite liked the feel of it. Zoro felt the desire to say it again.

 

“ _ San- _ ” 

 

Zoro never expected for the idiot to actually kiss him, if you could even call it a kiss. A desperate press of lips to lips, an assessment of their current predicament and health. A hearty _ ‘fuck you’ _ to everyone who thought they couldn’t possibly survive all of this, including themselves. A chance to live in the moment. A chance to reaffirm wholeheartedly that, yes, the two of them were truly alive. 

 

“This isn’t exactly a  _ romantic  _ place,” Zoro said with a slight chuckle, clenching his entire body, from head to toe, so that he wouldn’t cough up blood from the grievous injuries he had sustained in place of his captain.  

 

“ _ This _ ,” Sanji said, pointing in between them as he continued to stare Zoro down. “Isn’t exactly romantic. I’m  _ pissed _ ,” he said, placing a dangerous knee in between Zoro’s thighs. “I’m burning up with how much anger I’ve been carrying around with me these past couple of days. It’s been hell waiting for you to wake up,  _ Roronoa _ .”

 

Zoro wanted to laugh, wanted to chastise the other for caring about him or maybe his wounded pride, but found that he couldn’t. Zoro wrapped his hand around Sanji’s throat as the other took a long gulp of his rum through the crushing force of his larynx, alcohol splashing down his chin, his throat and Zoro’s hand. Sanji had the nerve to wink at him, the bastard. 

 

Zoro got into his face, nose to nose as he held his searing gaze. “Get used to it,” he warned, licking the liquor from the side of Sanji’s chin, savoring the taste hidden under the usual burn that was uniquely the cooks, salt with a hint of aftershave. 

 

_ “If you die, what’ll happen…!?”  _

 

That’s what Sanji had said, and it had made Zoro’s blood boil back then and it made his blood boil now, especially with the alcohol coursing through his veins. Zoro felt the urge to kiss him again, and so he did, but it was a lot less hard and a lot more slipshod, with a low groan emitting from one of their throats, but which of the two made it couldn’t be seen, nor admitted.   

 

Zoro was turned on, that much was obvious, especially with the cook’s knee placed precariously in between his thighs, pressing against the bulge in his pants. “We’ll be setting sail tomorrow morning,” Sanji whispered into his ear, words full of lust and a touch of cigarette smoke, “Why don’t we make use of what’s left of this place?”

 

Thriller Bark, as a whole, was in complete and utter disarray, but the mansion’s kitchen was left in shambles, but it stood upright on its unleveled foundation. Sanji was everywhere all at once, attacking Zoro with sharp nips of teeth and sucking kisses, hands caressing his entire body, soothing the wounds, but deepening the bruises. Pleasure and pain. 

 

Love and disdain.

 

Punishment. 

 

Zoro didn’t have time to think, Sanji’s pristine hands around the waist of his pants, tugging at them until they gave way to his ministrations, nestled across Zoro’s thighs, haramaki cast aside. Sanji’s mouth was on him before his mind could register it, hot and warm, and welcoming. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been up until that moment. Zoro was terrified by how amazing the cook’s mouth felt around him, licking and sucking as his head bobbed up and down his length, taking him in and then letting him go, using his hand to accentuate his pleasure. Wet and breathy, and uncoiling Zoro from the inside out. 

 

Zoro’s fingers threaded through Sanji’s hair out of pure reflex, yanking in silent desperation that he was close to unraveling, but the cook seemed to derive pleasure from the motion, moaning around Zoro’s length, vibration making it hard for the swordsman to breathe. He was panting, hard...it was embarrassing. Sanji’s hands gripped his hips, thumbs digging into his flesh, holding him still as he worked to finish him off. A low, choked grunt tore through Zoro’s throat, the only desperate warning he was able to manage to give the cook a chance to back off, to let him come shamefully all over himself, but Sanji merely worked harder to swallow him all down instead.

 

Zoro’s legs were weak, his scarred chest rising and falling in rapid succession as his thighs trembled, fingers still threaded through the disheveled golden locks of Sanji’s hair. Zoro didn’t wait for the cook to stand up, deft fingers undoing the buttons to his stupid, complicated dress shirt as he pushed him back towards a mangled, pristinely polished kitchen table, a spit-covered hand down the front of Sanji’s pants, determined to get him off just as forcibly as he, himself, had. Sanji’s face was just as flushed as his chest was, and Zoro worked to attack any and all sensitive areas he could discern from the way Sanji moaned and gasped, vocal in a way Zoro just wasn’t, but gods or no gods, was he infatuated with the sounds the cook made. 

 

“You _bastard_ ,” Sanji moaned, stomach clenching. “ _Who_ _asked you to_?” 

 

Sanji was close, hard from the anger, turned on by going down on him. Zoro knew just how to finish him off. “Because I will always take care of my Nakama, in anyway  _ they  _ need.” 

 

Sanji came all over Zoro’s hand in strong currents, head thrown back as his hips rocked up desperately. Zoro licked his hand clean as Sanji tucked himself back into his pants, placing a cigarette in between his sinful lips as he searched for a lighter with shaking hands. Zoro did it for him, watching as Sanji hesitated to take a drag of smoke, holding it in between his fingers instead, his freehand bringing Zoro down for a kiss, brushing their tongues together before pulling away.

 

“I thought you might like to know what you taste like,” he said, smug and hot and taking a puff from his lit cigarette.

 

Zoro grunted, cracking his neck as he stood up straight, arms crossed as he refused to cave in. “I’m hungry,” he said. 

 

Sanji laughed, taking a look around the eerie kitchen with a glint in his eye. “You got me off, I’ll see what I can do,” he said.       

 

 

  
  



End file.
